Piano Man
by BobFrapples49
Summary: A woman walks into a New York bar and discovers that you can find the truth anywhere, even in the most unlikely places.


A/N: This is not a songfic, nor does it have anything to do with the Billy Joel song. A huge thanks to my beta readers: Queen Su, Dearborn, and WingedFlight. You guys are awesome, and this story is much better thanks to your hard work!

To see my full writing blog, as well as the official Wordle word cloud for this story, please visit my blog via the link on my profile. From there, you can find out about my other stories, get exclusive updates and previews, as well as behind-the-scenes information on all of my work! Thanks for your time!

-BobFrapples49-

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As she walked through the door, the cold seemed to die down as the warm air buffeted her. Strolling over to the counter, she slid up onto one of the high stools, her feet dangling a few inches off of the ground. She briefly allowed herself to hear a short phrase of the tune coming from the dark stained piano next to her before turning her attention back to the approaching figure.

"What'll it be, Miss?"

"Scotch on the rocks." She set her small purse down on her lap, folding her hands on the counter.

The bartender looked dubious about her choice. "You sure you can handle that, Miss? My scotch can be a bit strong…"

A small smile replaced the previous frown on her face. "I think I can handle it."

The bartender simply shrugged and grabbed a large bottle off of a shelf. She watched as he carefully poured the dark liquid and handed her the glass. She picked up her glass and took a sip. As she savored her drink, a voice broke into her peaceful moment.

"Where are you from?"

She turned to see the pianist still playing, but now quieting down in order to talk to her. He appeared to be about forty years old, with just a hint of grey in his primarily brown hair. After pondering her options, she decided to humor him.

"London."

He tilted his head slightly. "What part?"

She sighed quietly before she answered "Finchley."

"For a few years, I lived in Hansworth. Beautiful place."

She didn't bother to look at him. "That's nice."

He continued playing, unfazed by her rather rude response. After a few moments of without his interruption, he broke back in. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Susan."

The piano slowly began to play a slower ballad, reminding her of a time when she danced at royal balls with the grace and dignity belonging to a queen. Brushing that thought out of her head, she returned to the present just in time for him to continue his questioning.

"So, Susan, what are you doing all the way in New York?"

She took another sip, this one being more like a gulp. "I'm just on a sightseeing trip. Nothing spectacular, I assure you."

He flashed her a quick grin. "I'm sure."

Susan gained a few moments of peace before being interrupted again.

"So, did you leave any family behind in London?"

He _had _to bring that up, didn't he?

"I'm afraid not. I don't have a family," she responded simply, before turning her attention back to the drink in front of her.

The man at the piano didn't see her begin to tense up, and simply shook his head sadly, before looking back at her. "Care to elaborate?"

She whipped her head over to stare straight into his eyes. "Why do you care? Why don't you just leave me alone!"

Susan quickly took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's just, today is the anniversary of their deaths. Three years ago today, my whole family died in a train crash."

He shook his head again. "That's a shame. I'm sure that they were great people."

"Better than you know," Susan muttered to herself. "Better than I know."

The piano man danced his fingers over the ivories, taking another few moments to think. He appeared to be carefully choosing his words. "Were you close to them?"

Susan's first reaction was to laugh out loud, just at how he could make correct guesses about her family without even knowing them. After ruling that option out, though, she decided to skip the guffaw and just answer the question.

"You might say that. When we were younger, I used to play with my siblings a lot."

The piano man smiled. "Brothers or sisters?"

"Two brothers, one sister." A small tear started to form in her eye, but was obliterated by her hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized for her weepiness.

He offered a sad smile but dug a little deeper. "What was your favorite game to play with them?"

Susan gave a sad smile. "Our favorite game was where we pretended we were kings and queens of some magical land."

The man returned her sad smile. "Go on."

She took a deep breath. "We named our world Narnia. We ruled from a grand castle by the sea. You know, the kind of place that could never exist, simply because of how beautiful it was."

He gave a little chuckle. "I know that feeling."

She continued on. "The whole place was full of talking animals. My sister, Lucy, her favorite was a faun that she called 'Mister Tumnus.' But, oh, the most beautiful was a talking lion. His name was 'Aslan', and let me tell you, he was just amazing. He even died to take the place of my brother who betrayed our kingdom."

His eyebrow went up at this. "Are you religious, Susan?"

She gave a mild snort at that. "Not particularly. Why?"

"There is a very similar story to this in our own history. Have you heard of a man called Jesus?"

She gave him a small pity smile "Of course. Who hasn't?"

He seemed to relax at this, but didn't expect the next words.

"He was a brilliant liar, wasn't he?"

He shook his head sadly once again. "Perhaps. But, just maybe he was right."

She didn't respond to his comment, so he tried asking something else. "Why did your game end?"

"It's a game!" She practically screamed. "My brother was twenty-two when he died, and he still wouldn't stop believing it was real!"

He continued to play softly, giving her a few moments to calm down before asking the looming question.

"And what if he was right? What if Narnia was real?"

A burning tear forced its way out of her eye. "Narnia can't exist. It's impossible."

"It's only impossible to you because you don't want Narnia to exist," he pointed out.

"It can't be real because Aslan let me down!" Susan snapped at the calm pianist. He ignored her tone, and waited for her to speak again.

Her voice diminished down to soft whisper. "Aslan took me away from the only place where I've ever belonged. I can't forgive him for that."

His voice lowered as well. "What if you needed to leave Narnia in order to learn something?"

She laughed sarcastically. "What could have been so important for me to learn?"

"What did Aslan say you needed to learn?"

Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke. "Nothing important. Something about finding him here. I don't really remember."

"You said he died for your brother's mistake?"

She seemed to gain a little bit of composure. "That's right. I watched him die. Then, I even watched him come back to life."

His eyes opened wide as he gave her another smile, the biggest yet. "What an amazing story! You got to see something truly spectacular!"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"When Jesus died, his death was witnessed by many, but the first people to see him alive were some of the women who had traveled with him."

"And your point is?" Susan crossed her arms.

"You got to witness the allegory to that in Narnia! I would have given almost anything to see that."

Susan shook her head. "I don't believe it! I come to a different country, across an ocean, into a seedy looking bar, and I can't even escape from my troubles here!"

His voice lowered into a gentle whisper. "Sometimes, Susan, you can't escape your troubles. Sometimes, you have to face them head on."

"Oh, really?" Susan snapped. "And you think you know about my troubles?"

"You've already told me." He added quietly. "You know that you need to find Aslan, yet you are still angry with him for trying to _help _you. You may not see it that way, but that's the way it is."

He expected her to get angry and storm out, so her next action shocked him. Tough Susan broke down completely and began to weep violently.

Her tears flowed with aggressive force, her body shook as she sobbed. Her head made contact with the wooden bar, and she exuded sorrow from every pore of her body. The bartender looked over at his sobbing patron, then at his piano player. The piano man mouthed the words "It's okay", which reassured the bartender enough to walk away.

The man behind the piano ceased his playing. He pushed out the bench, and walked over to the weeping woman. She didn't even look up as he sat on the stool next to hers.

"Susan?" he asked softly.

"Why doesn't he let me find peace?"

"Who, Susan?"

"Aslan. He haunts me everywhere I go. I have cried my eyes out for days on end looking for peace, and he always stops me from finding it." She broke into another peal of sobs.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "He _wants _you to find peace. You just refuse to turn around and see it."

"What does that even mean?"

"Susan, Aslan _is _the only real peace. If you don't find peace in Him, then you'll never find a peace that lasts."

She dabbed her handkerchief across her red eyes.

"I thought that you had your own beliefs. Why are you so sure that Aslan is real?"

"Because He sounds like the same as my Savior. I believe that they are one and the same."

"Why do you think that?"

"Aslan died for the sin of your brother, the traitor, and thus for all the traitors in Narnia. Think about it. Anyone who has ever sinned at all has betrayed Aslan, so he sacrificed himself for all Narnians. He didn't have to do it, but he wanted to because them. Jesus died for the sins of Earth because his love for us humans That being said, I don't know of any other person that would take every mistake that anyone had ever made, and carry it on their shoulders."

Her eyes began to tear up again. "Then I am lost, because I can't forgive Him,"

He was quick to stop her. "You don't need to forgive _Him,_ Susan. You need _Him_ to forgive _you. _ He brought you back here to see the truth. He loves you, Susan. He even bought your life with his own."

She began to cry again, this time with a little less force.

"May I pray for you?" He looked deeply into her eyes.

"If you wish."

He placed his hand on top of hers.

"Lord, please touch Susan's heart. Let her see that you only want the best for her, and that you never meant to hurt her. Reveal who you are to her. Let her see for herself what a great love you have for her. Through the sacrifice and blood of Jesus Christ I pray."

Susan surprised both of them by jumping in herself.

"Aslan….Jesus. I'm so sorry for trying to forget you. I don't know how you can do it, but please forgive me for turning my back on you. I guess…I turned my back on everything. I turned my back on Narnia. I turned my back on my own family. I guess I even turned my back on who _I _am. Oh, Aslan, please let me see you. Please…please forgive me."

The last words came out as a quiet whisper, just loud enough for both of them to hear. Susan slowly opened her eyes, and turned to look at her companion.

"I think I can see it now," she murmured. "They really are one and the same, aren't they?"

The piano man had a small tear in his eye. "Yes. They are."

She gave him the first genuine smile of the night. "I feel….lighter! Almost as if some huge weight was taken off my shoulders."

He returned her smile. "That's because you have now accepted being a child of Christ. He offers to make you a new person, the person you were created to be. The weight you feel gone, that's the sin that was holding you back."

"You know," Susan said thoughtfully, "My family kept trying to tell me that they had found Aslan here, and I never believed them. They kept telling me that they wanted me to be with them in Aslan's country."

He slowly stood up, and walked over to the piano. "I'm sure that you'll be able to apologize to them when you see them there." Returning himself to his former position, he began to play a waltz. Susan stood to her feet, and began to tap her toe to the rhythm.

The song was gentle, yet lively. The keys danced, as if playing on their own. Something inside Susan felt as if she should begin to sing along, yet she couldn't think of any words. The tune seemed so familiar, though….

Suddenly, it felt as though a wall was broken as a stream of memories began to return to her. The memories she had locked away for so long that showed a magical land of talking creatures and speaking landscapes.

"Narnia!" Susan breathed softly. Closing her eyes to listen to the melody, she suddenly placed the tune. She realized that the song the stranger played was one of her favorite waltzes from the time of her reign. The memories of gliding across polished floor to the very same tune flooded her mind, and she gave a small smile at the thought. She continued to stay in the same spot next to the piano, content just to remember the days long passed. When the song ended, she slowly snapped back to reality, eager to find out how a stranger had known a Narnian melody.

"How did you know…." Susan stopped. The piano bench was empty, and the keys lay stationary. No piano player remained. She hurried back over to the bar, and motioned to the bored looking bartender.

"Can I help you?" He put down his book to look at her.

"Who is your pianist? I must speak to him!" Susan blurted in excitement.

"The pianist? Oh, I really don't know. My last pianist quit a week ago. That fellow walked in this afternoon. Offered to play for free tonight. No clue what his name is, though. Kind of a quiet fellow."

She silently nodded in affirmation. She set a few dollars on the counter, more than enough to pay her tab. She hurried out the door, and looked back and forth around the street. The pianist was gone, replaced with the small crowd of evening window shoppers who were willing to brave the cold. No piano man remained.

"Oh, Aslan. You sent him for me, didn't you?" Susan breathed quietly. "Thank you, Aslan! Thank you, Jesus!" Susan walked back towards her hotel. For the first time in years, she was truly free. Truly Queen Susan the Gentle.


End file.
